F/February 24 – Dance For Me by Janelle Reston

It’s such an honor to be part of F/February! If you haven’t been following this series, please go to CM Lloyd’s blog and check it out. She discusses a different work every day of the month, with six author interviews each week. I learned about a lot of writers I hadn’t heard of before and am excited to check out their stories now.

As we near the end of the month, let’s look towards some of our later releases of 2016/early 2017. Details are a bit more scarce (a.k.a. publication dates are not confirmed yet/covers are waiting to be revealed), but the passion for F/F is just as visceral and lovely!

Janelle Reston is here for the 24th day of F/February to talk about her upcoming short “Dance For Me” in the F/F femdom anthology FROM TOP TO BOTTOM.

1. Why do you write F/F?

I’m bisexual and love reading romances, so in part I am writing the stories I’d like to read: tales of interesting women from a variety of backgrounds who fall in love or in lust with each other!

2. What’s your favorite scene from “Dance For Me”?

A week before graduation, I went out with a group of friends to celebrate the completion of exams. Jane and I had broken up by then—the vanilla sex had become unbearable to me, and my demands for kink had become unbearable to her—and I was hoping the night would end with me getting laid by a powerful stranger.

I hadn’t gotten all my grades back yet, but I knew I’d done well enough that my degree was in no danger. Professor Lacey’s class was the most challenging, and even she had given me an approving smile when I finished my routine for her, though this time she had not clapped. “You’ve grown so much this year,” she’d said at the conclusion of my dance. “It’s been an honor to watch you bloom.”

She was, of course, the reason for my blossoming. She was the sun and rain. Without her, I couldn’t have grown.

My desire to find a fuckable stranger flew out the window as soon as my group walked into the bar and I spotted Professor Lacey in the corner, sharing drinks with another woman around her age. Professor Lacey’s companion looked like she might be a dancer too, with a wiry body and long blonde hair cascading down her back. The blonde batted her eyes and laughed enthusiastically whenever Professor Lacey spoke, but Professor Lacey didn’t return the enthusiasm. She seemed distracted. She fiddled with the ends of her own silk scarf, her eyes flitting around the room until, at last, they landed on me.

Her mouth spread into a smile. I waved. She winked at me. My stomach flipped.

She turned back to her companion, and the moment was suddenly gone. I wondered if it had occurred at all. Perhaps it had been a product of my horny imagination.

My friends and I found a table. I had one margarita and then another. My eyes scanned the bar as restlessly as Professor Lacey’s had done when I’d first entered. They often wandered to her, and to the blonde, who was ramping up her flirtations. Every few minutes, she reached across the table to readjust Professor Lacey’s purple scarf or touch her hand. Jealousy burned my throat.

As I finished my third margarita, Professor Lacey walked over to the bar. The blonde checked her phone, then rifled through a purse for a small mirror, which she peered at in the dim light to apply lipstick.

I slammed my glass down on the table, excused myself to my friends, and made a beeline to the bar.

“Professor Lacey! What a surprise to see you here!” My head felt woozy and my chest warm. These sensations only increased when Professor Lacey turned away from the bartender to face me head on. Her lip curled, as if she were trying to stifle a laugh. I didn’t know how I felt about that. I liked to see her happy, but I didn’t want her laughing at my expense.

“I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just happy to see you.”

Professor Lacey’s smile grew. “I’m happy to see you, too. Though usually when people start off a conversation with, ‘I’m not drunk,’ it means they are.”

I was too thrilled by her first statement to be offended by her second. Professor Lacey was happy to see me. Perhaps it was the first glimpse of happiness she’d had all night. Perhaps she would take me home with her, and I could give her even more.

The bartender set a drink in front of Professor Lacey. I pulled out my wallet. “Let me buy your drink, professor.”

She put a hand on my wrist to stop me from opening the wallet. It was a light touch, but commanding. “No, thank you, Miranda. That wouldn’t be appropriate. I haven’t turned in all your grades yet.”

I glanced back at her table as she gave the bartender a ten. The blonde was watching us. I waved, as if to assure her I was no threat, though I hoped I was. An idea popped in my head—one that would satisfy my curiosity about the blonde woman’s status, and that might also convince Professor Lacey to accept some sort of gift from me. “Is that your date? I can buy her a drink, instead of you. She’s not grading me.”

“She’s not my date. And don’t fool yourself into thinking I can’t see right through why you asked me that.” Her smile disappeared. It turned grim, disciplinary—the way it had always turned when I wasn’t performing up to her standards. “I don’t fuck my students, Miranda.”

3. What is a F/F book besides your own that you would recommend to other people?

One I’ve reread many times is Aquamarine by Carol Anshaw. It explores the ways a love affair the main character had as a teenager affects her throughout her life and how, no matter what choices she makes in her life or what kind of relationships she has, she’s drawn back to that first female lover. For more contemporary category romance, I enjoy Shira Glassman’s stories. And I’m always discovering new writers. I just downloaded a bunch of e-books by authors I haven’t read before, so if you ask me this question again in two weeks, I’ll probably have a whole list of new favorites for you.